


Broken

by pickleplum



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Assisted Suicide, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Disintegration, Mental Instability, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 16:08:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pickleplum/pseuds/pickleplum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Drift doesn't only create bonds. Sometimes it breaks them, along with bones and hearts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. LOCCENT

We’re in LOCCENT when it happens, me and the good doctors, talking possibilities for the Mark VI prototype. I don’t remember what they start arguing about, but it’s identical to a million of the arguments they’ve had in front of me before right up until it isn’t. 

Newt makes this … _animal_ noise and lunges at Gottlieb. They hit the floor awkwardly and I hear bone snap like a tree branch. Gottlieb gives a strangled scream and does his best to protect his head with his hands. Newt is attacking with everything he has--fists, feet, fingernails. Teeth. Jesus. 

I try to haul Newt off but he flings me into a console like it was nothing and keeps ripping at Gottlieb who’s desperately begging him to stop. I’m still extricating myself when--thank god--Mako turns up. She sizes up the room and’s across it instantly. She flips Newt off Gottlieb and face down in one fluid motion, then basically sits on him while he fucking _growls_ at her. I see blood in his hair and on his glasses. Mako is cooing to Newt in Japanese. I don’t speak a word, but I’m pretty sure she’s trying to bring him back to himself.

Gottlieb’s a mess. Blood drips from his hair onto the floor. His nose looks broken and he’s gasping for air. I tell medical to get the hell up here and try to stop the worst of the bleeding and keep the man conscious in case that was a skull fracture I heard.

I can’t look at the blood pooled on the floor and neither can Mako, so we follow the medical folks down to the infirmary. “What happened, Mister Choi?” she asks and I give the honest answer.

“I have no idea. They were arguing like usual and Newt just … snapped. You ever see him do something like that before?” She shakes her head. I wonder if I should have paid more attention when Newt told me about his new anger issue. Maybe I could have gotten him help then and this wouldn’t have happened.

It’s not like these guys really have friends besides each other that we can call in, but they’re both going to need someone when they wake up. Mako waits for Gottlieb to get out of surgery.

That leaves Newt to me. Medical had to sedate him to get him out of LOCCENT. Now they’ve put him in hand and foot restraints and there’s a mountain of an MP in the room with me to make sure he doesn’t do any more damage. He’s only got a few scratches. Almost none of the blood on him was his own. Newt is still out cold when Mako gives me the damage report on Gottlieb: Concussion, punctured lung, broken ribs, lacerations to head, face, arms, and hands. And a smashed femur that it takes pins and plates to stitch back together. Newt did all of that in less than a minute. Shit. 

It’s a couple of hours later when Newt’s eyes flutter open. “Welcome back,” I say, hoping to sound cheery. 

Newt tries to lift his hand, probably to find his missing glasses, and notices the restraints at his wrists. “Hey… Wha’s goin’ on? Why’m I tied up?”

“You attacked Hermann in LOCCENT. You remember?”

“I did what?” His expression goes from confused to horrified. “Oh my god, I did, didn’t I? I didn’t imagine that. It’s like… like… everything went blue. I couldn’t think. Couldn’t stop. I-I wanted to tear him apart.” He’s very quiet. “I almost did, didn’t I?”

“You messed him up pretty bad.”

He swallows. “H-how badly did I hurt him?”

“I really don’t think you wanna know that right now, Newt.”

“Oh shitshitshitshitshit _shit_. I really, really fucked him up, didn’t I? That’s why I’m tied down. And no one’s sure if I’m gonna do it again and maybe actually kill somebody.” I have no idea what to say. He’s right, but he looks so broken, I can’t bring myself to agree.

I settle for “We’ll get this figured out, man. For now, just rest and try to relax.”

“Relax? I almost killed my…. How the fuck am I supposed to relax?” he shouts. “It’s probably best to put me in a straitjacket and lock me in a room somewhere and forget about me. I’m a fucking menace.” He laughs hysterically. The doctor comes back and adds something to Newt’s IV. It must be another sedative because he’s dozing again in a couple of minutes.

When Gottlieb comes to the first thing he asks Mako is “Where is Newton?”

“Just rest, Gottlieb- _hakase_.”

“Not until I know where he is.”

“Down the hall, sedated and restrained.”

“He is unhurt?”

“Except for the injuries you caused defending yourself, yes.” He looks worried. “They are mostly superficial. Unlike your own.”

“This is not his fault.” His sleepy eyes meet hers. “I think the Drifts with the kaiju have seriously damaged his mind. I do not want him hurt or punished for what happened. This is not his fault. He needs our help.” 

When Mako tells me the story, it breaks my heart. We watch Newt sleeping his drugged sleep. I can see what she’s thinking. Another teammate who’s losing his family to save the world.

Newt has another MRI and the results come back abnormal. Same story on a psych test. The restraints stay on and the sedatives keep dripping into his arm. No one seems to know what to do with him. I kinda wonder if the PPDC docs actually care. They seem more afraid of him than worried for his health.

The doctors let Gottlieb go first. He’s still in a wheelchair and one of the cuts on his forehead will scar, but he’s well on the way to recovery, physically at least.

No one’s sure when they’re going to let Newt out, if they ever do. At least they’ve untied him, even if he’s locked in a room that’s more ‘jail’ than ‘hospital’ and watched 24/7. He paces a lot. When he’s not pacing, he’s sleeping. He can’t even read to pass the time since the doctors won’t give him his glasses back and he’s almost blind as a bat without them. If he wasn’t crazy before, this treatment will probably get him there, so I carve out as much time as I can to sit outside his door and talk to him. I think Mako drops by occasionally, too.


	2. Cell

I think they're experimenting on me. For the last two days (I think it's days. It's hard to tell, 'cause they never turn the lights off.), I've been heaving my guts out and so muscle-sore I've wanted to die. I think it's withdrawal. Wish I knew (or they'd tell me) what drugs they'd been putting in my food since they locked me in here. That might help me figure out if what I'm hearing and seeing is organic or drug-induced. Not that it matters, really. When you try to tear your best friend to pieces 'cause some monster in the back of your head tells you to, there really isn't much to do but lock you up and throw away the key.

Tendo's being a real trouper about it. He's down here pretty regularly, telling me what's going on outside, what's up with Alison and Felix, how the Mark VIs are coming along. It breaks up the silence (and, christ, is it silent) and gets me out of my head for a bit. Which is great because it's starting to feel crowded in there. Mako comes by sometimes, too. She doesn't say much, but she's a comforting presence, you know? They help, but I miss books and music. And Hermann. Especially Hermann. I really really really wanna apologize for what I did, but he hasn't come around. Not that I blame him. Who could? What would I say anyway? 'Sorry, man. The little kaiju lodged in my skull told me to kill you with my bare hands so I gave it my best shot'? I swear it won't happen again. I think it won't. I hope it won't. Who'm I kidding? I have no idea what I'm capable of anymore. Hermann's always been the numbers guy. He could tell you the odds to four significant digits of me murdering him if they ever unlock the door.

So I must be hallucinating again since I hear his voice coming from outside my room. No way in hell he's really out there. This is just my brain trying to fool me into ... something. Or maybe the docs are playing with some new chemicals in my food. No way I'm gonna fall for this. Uh uh. No way. That is not Hermann trying to get my attention. That's not him speaking German at me. That's not him begging me to talk to him. It's all in my head. I'm gonna lie down facing this wall and sleep until it goes away.

Hey. It's quiet again. Thank god. Really thought I was losing it for a bit there.

Waaaaaitaminute. There it is again. Shut up, Scissure, I want to hear this. Sure sounds like Hermann. Suppose there's no harm in answering him. It's not like I haven't already sorta abandoned my inner monologue occasionally anyway. Hey, ho, let's go.

"Hermann?"

"I'm here, Newt."

"You're really there? Not just in my head?"

"I'm really here, my kaiju grrrroupie." He even rolls the r. If it's not the real deal, it's a damn good hallucination. I'll roll with it.

"Hermann, I'm really sorry. It's... I think something from the Anteverse has moved into my skull and is rearranging all the furniture. I didn't... don't want to hurt you. You're probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And I couldn't stop myself from trying to kill you. What kind of man does that? What kind of monster? I mean...."

"Newt, please don't say such things. I know that you were not in control of yourself. I want to help you. It hurts me to see you like this."

"Fuck, dude, Tendo told me I almost tore your face off and you're worried about me? What the hell is wrong with you? You should be asking for my head on a pike!"

"Newton. I want to see you well and out of this room. That's all I want. I will do anything I can to make that happen."

"Okay. Right. Now I don't believe you. Nice try, brain, but I know this is you just trying to make me feel better. Think I'll lie down again until you feel like cooperating."

"Newt, please...."

"Nope, sorry, we're done here, Mister Fantasy." That can't possibly be the sound of Hermann crying.

'Hermann' is one stubborn hallucination. Kinda like the original. Sometimes I talk to him. Sometimes I don't. Sometimes I spout total gibberish to see what he'll do. Once I introduced him to all of my roommates. He was so very polite to them it was fuckin' surreal. No matter what we do, though, he keeps coming back. He listens when we talk, even asks polite questions. Laughed at a joke once. When we're quiet, he talks. It's soothing. I kinda like it. His voice is a lot more gentle than the rest of them. When he visits, he hangs around until we doze off. When he leaves he says 'I love you' instead of 'goodnight'. 

That’s how I know for sure he's not real.

"You sure you want to keep doing this, Doctor Gottlieb? I hate to say it, but every visit you make seems to be aging you five years. I'm not sure there's anything of our Newt left in there." Tendo. That's Tendo. You're right, buddy. There ain't much room left in here for me. I think the whole family has moved in now. It's not so bad, really. Otachi's way too affectionate with that tongue of hers, but Hound's jokes almost make up for it. Sometimes it's kinda fun, even if I can't tell where I start and they begin anymore.


	3. Exit

"Doctor Gottlieb," Tendo Choi asks me quietly, "how is he today?" He holds out a tray of food from the mess hall for me to take. Is it that late already?

"He was lucid for a portion of the afternoon, so I suppose he is better than normal. He is sleeping now."

“I'm worried about you, man. This isn't healthy. Maybe you should, you know, just let him go.”

I stamp down my anger. "Thank you for your concern, Mister Choi, but I will proceed as I consider best." 

I ask the chief medical officer about Newton's prognosis. He shrugs and assures me that Newton's is a hopeless case. There is too much physical damage to his brain for any drug to have an effect. Nothing can be done to restore him to a semblance of normality. His condition will only worsen until he is completely unaware of his surroundings, but the deterioration will continue until a circuit controlling a vital organ fails. It could take weeks, it could take years, he says as calmly as discussing the weather. I thank him and excuse myself to be sick.

It should not end this way.

I continue my visits, spending as much time as I can with Newton while completing any necessary work and getting a minimal amount of sleep. Oft as not, I smother tears while listening to him talk to creatures and people that exist only in his mind. Other times I babble endlessly about whatever comes to mind while he listens silently. I miss our arguments.

Months go by like this, every day a very slight variation on the same pattern. His attacks on staff slowly become more frequent and more vicious. There is talk of placing him in an induced coma for the safety of himself and the medical personnel. He maintains coherence for shorter and shorter periods, when he is able to at all. 

Therefore, I am very surprised the day he asks me. “Hermann," he pleads, "I can’t take this anymore. I’m not alone in here and they’re making sure I don’t get out much. I’m not me. I’m scared I'm scared I'm scared. Please help me. Get me out of here.”

"What are you asking me to do, Newt?"

"Make it stop, Hermann. Make ... everything stop."

"I don't know how.... There's nothing...."

"There is, there is, there is, there is. You know what it is."

"Dear god, you can't be serious. I couldn't...."

We repeat the conversation twice more. Each time, Newton sounds more desperate.

The day after his third request I press my head against the door to his cell and call his name. He answers and I address him in German. That should buy us time while the staff tries to figure out what we are saying.

"Newt, do you remember what we talked about during our last visit? Answer me in German."

"Yeah, a way out."

"Yes. Do you still want to leave?"

"Yes! More than ever. Please!"

"I brought what you asked for." I swallow and steel myself to go on. "But I will have to get very, very close to you to make it work. If I open the door, will you hold still so I can help you?"

"Ye-yes."

"We will only have one chance, so you must stay still." My voice shakes as badly as my hands. "I am going to open the door, walk over to you, and hug you. You will need to hug me back. Gently. Understand?" He makes an affirmative sound. "When I hug you, you will feel a sting in your back. It won't hurt much, but that is your way out."

"Oh god, thank you."

"Now, the doctors will probably rush in and pull us apart. Don't be afraid and don't fight them. Just be still. They will probably say horrible things and tell you that you've hurt me, but they will be lying to you. You won't hurt me. I know you won't. I trust you, Newt."

The electronic lock is no obstacle thanks to the ID badge I palmed at the nurses' station. I exchange it for the syringe I knicked after hacking the drug locker in my pocket as I step inside. 

Newton is waiting, shaking, on the far side of the small room.

There is a flash of wildness in his eyes as I cross the room, a bestial desire to survive, but he finds the strength to force it aside. He trembles not from his old excess of energy but from fear and the struggle to remain in control of himself as I limp across the space between us.

I wrap my arms around him and he leans into me, just as he used to do. He is thinner than when I last held him, bones prominent beneath his thin pajamas and skin. He smells of fear and hospitals and himself. It’s a warm spiciness I had not realized I missed so much. I pull in a deep breath, feeling the short hairs at the nape of his neck tickle my nose.

“Are you sure, darling?” I whisper. He nods violently and a feel the first tears soaking through my shirt.

My unsteady fingers seek the lower edge of one of his ribs near the joint with his spine and I push the needle into his soft skin. Hopefully the drug will drain swiftly into the azygous vein and his heart. Newton gives a little gasp at the sting and what must be the unpleasant heat of the fluid pressing through his muscles. The beast rears up in his eyes again, but is gone almost as quickly as it appears.

"Thank you. I love you, Hermann." For a moment he looks like the man I remember.

"You are welcome. I love you, Newt." I let my own tears fall.

Our reunion lasts only a minute before the doctors and medbay security burst in and tear us apart. They throw Newton to the floor and four enormous men hold him down while he makes noises like a panicked animal. He does not fight their grips as I am carried from the room. The last I see of him is the desolate look in his green eyes.

I am hustled to an examination room and inspected for injuries which I do not have. There will be bruises on my back later from Newton’s grip, but for now, thankfully, my skin is unmarked. The empty syringe drops into the sharps box as soon as I am left alone. I am waiting for a security detail to interrogate me as to what happened when I hear a medical crisis team race past. I say a silent prayer that I used a sufficient dose. I finally exhale when the trudge past again, subdued.

It is over.

I tell the doctors and the MPs the story I prepared. Yes, I stole the badge and let myself in. It was a moment of madness that made we want to see and touch Newton again. But he started to attack me and the medical staff arrived just in time to save me from harm. No one questions my tale. It’s a sad coincidence, they say, that my visit occurred just before Newton’s heart failed. Perhaps it was the stress of seeing me, they mumble, but it would have happened sooner or later, with or without my actions. The investigators nod sadly and press repulsive sympathetic handshakes on me as they leave.

I lock myself in my quarters and sit unmoving on what had been our bed for hours, until sleep finally arrives. I will not speak of the dreams I have that night.

I cannot deny that there are times I contemplate joining Newton, but Mister Choi has an uncanny sense for when these moments arrive. He always appears bringing a mug of tea, a story about his children, or a shoulder on which to cry. He is not Newton, but he is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [the prompt:](http://pacificrimkink.livejournal.com/2747.html?thread=3771835#t3771835)  
> “After drifting with the Kaiju, Newt has found that he can be hostile quite suddenly, although Hermann doesn't find this out until the very last minute. The two are arguing in the lab about something or watching the Jaegers fight the Kaiju from their post near Tendo when Newt jumps Hermann and nearly kills him. Newt is going crazy and after all that has happened between the two of them, Hermann helps. Tendo keeps an eye on both scientists. You are more than welcome to pair Tendo with the two scientists or what not, or he can just be a very caring friend. ;) Whatever floats your boat!”  
> Also fits [this similar prompt:](http://pacificrimkink.livejournal.com/2747.html?thread=4560059#t4560059)  
> “Something inside Newton snaps and he pounces on his colleague in the midst of an argument. Hands tightly clenched around his throat, Newt watches with morbid curiosity as Hermann goes purple, struggles, and loses consciousness. He is torn off Hermann by Tendo with a disapproving glare and shouts. A few days later Hermann comes into the lab, neck bruised and reddened from where blood vessels bursted, inching away from Newton every time he comes close to him. Newton is filled with guilt and tries to care for Hermann as well as he can and regain his trust. But it will take more than that to get Hermann seeing his friend in a different light. Bonus Points: After drift side effects, Newton has violent outbursts. Something that he has never done before. Deep inside Newton's subconscious, a being tells him to lose his shit and takes control of his body in order to do so. Bonus Points2: Tendo is Hermann's mother hen. Keeps a watchful eye on his mathematician.”
> 
> Apologies to the first OP for sidelining Tendo in the second and third chapters. Hopefully I redeem myself with the ending.
> 
> I tried several different versions that didn’t involve assisted suicide, but it just didn’t click no matter what I tried. So, yeah, I had to go back to my original plotline.
> 
> Note to self: Stop killing these guys when you’re not writing silliness. Stop writing things you can barely transcribe because of feels. Can’t you do angst without killing someone? Also: Stop having feels about your own writing. That’s super dumb.
> 
> Music to set the mood: [Jawbox, _For Your Own Special Sweetheart_ , Track 2, “Savory”](http://youtu.be/d1T1_TnNa7Y)


End file.
